To the Victor Goes the Ashes
by Col. Hammer
Summary: Empires rise and crumble without thought to the lives they trample underfoot or a care to those that keep the Empires strong. Will Mr. Potter learn to care for those that wrong him, or will he decide to rule them?
1. Stoking the Coals

'Why is it that all good dungeons must have dim lighting, be damp, cold, and carry with it the stench of human fear and suffering?'

Looking down the standing figure of a young man in the afore-mentioned good dungeon sniffed at himself before coming to a conclusion of what he might be smelling-himself. Such was the toll of spending nine months in this dungeon without a shower, though the slow passing of the days had done more to him than simply making him malodorous. The lack of outside light that his subterranean cell in the very bowels Azkaban afforded had given him a ghostly appearance, whilst his sunken eyes were beginning to take on the glassy tint of one who only had himself for company.

His longhaired head- always messy even when well kept and short now lay plastered against him to his shoulders-now perked up at the sound of the hallway door to his wing of cells being opened. 'Do I have a visitor? Finally, after all these months do I have a visitor?'

His unvoiced question and hope was swiftly answered by the cold chill that suddenly enveloped the cells whose inhabitants thought could not get any colder. Black robed Dementors began to glide down the halls. As they carried nothing in their bony hands it obviously wasn't mealtime for the prisoners.

Instead, it was mealtime for the Dementors.

The human wardens of Azkaban cared little for the inmates the sent to the bottom of their prison. It was understood by them that those they sent there, an area they referred to as the high security section, would go mad or become physically weak the quickest so that the Dementors Kiss would not appear to be the cause of death. This then gave the Ministry the chance to meet out capital punishment to the worst criminals in wizard society without length trials and appeals that were normally required in such cases.

The prisoners in the nearby cells knew this fact as well as the young man did and started to howl, scream, and cry out for mercy to any deity that would listen. Ultimately, the prison chosen for the Kiss was one that showed the least reaction, as he would be the most physically and emotionally destroyed of the group. He, the prisoner in the cell across from the young man (with the long, lanky hair) had as his only reaction before his soul was sucked from him to call upon the divine protection of his god, which happened to be excrement.

The Dementors lingered over the corpse for a time. They were picking up on the despair being broadcast by the other prisoners around them, and appeared to be sucking it up like smokers enjoying a fine cigar after a rich dinner.

In a small corner of the young man's mind that did not quake in terror an objective observation was being made. 'Why are we wizards and witches taut in school that Dementors feast upon our joy, taking that and leaving us only with fear? It seems obvious having lived here so long that Dementors seem to like any emotion except the extreme joy used to fuel the patronus charm- the only thing that can hurt a Dementor!

With this thought, a small nugget of hope formed within the lanky-haired young man. In fact, this hope was so strong that it was able to attract the attention of the Dementors- perhaps due to its rarity amongst the prisoners of the high security ward.

While the rest of his mind shouted for the rebellious part to cease and desist all of this hope foolishness the nugget of germinated itself into a plan. This plan was enough to make the seemingly hopeful part of the young mans mind rub its insubstantial hands together in insane glee.

'But first', said the now-demented sub-mind,' I must tantalize this… thing in front of me.'

The 'afraid' section of the young man's mind was just wakening to the seeming lunacy of the sub-mind that it shared space with before realizing that it had been thrust into the command chair of the body in which it resided. As the 'dignity' section of his mind seemed to have gone with the less-than-sane part, the rest of him did what it had been wanting to do since the Dementors entered the wing. This consisted of the adding several different to colors to those rags, which originally had been his pants.

The astute Dementor that had picked up on the young man's momentary hope looked over his shoulder at his fellows, before turning back to the cell before him. Moving to the door it proceeded to unlock it and wasted little in starting his mental torture of the young man.

The youth fell to his knees while clutching at his skull because of the emotionally painful memories assaulting his mind. The Dementor whished to be thorough in its tormenting, so it decided to go in chronological order of those things which caused the youth pain.

Hunkered in the rear of the youth's hindbrain behind imagined adamantium bars it had fashioned to contain itself until the right moment sat the objective sub-mind. It viewed the torments the rest of itself was forced to endure while seeming to ignore the effects of the torture.

'Oh yes! Start with the murder of my family by a dark wizard, why don't you! I can see you're the most imaginative of your entire goddamn family! Hurry it up, I haven't got all bloody day!'

The next torture memory was of when in his second year of schooling the entire student body believed him to be a dark wizard.

'Hey!', cried his sub-mind. 'Now we're cookin'! Self-righteous anger is just the ticket! It makes more fuel for my fire'. Behind his solid bars the sub mind had conjured for itself a shovel and the outfit of a Hogwarts Express conductor before he then began shoveling newly-conjured coal into a recently imagined steam engine.

The painful memory that followed was of the death of one of the youth's competitors (both in the sporting world and for the affections of a certain young lady) at the hands of the dark wizard that killed the youth's own parents.

'Oh bugger. I had wanted to swiv that blokes woman. Rather than adding fuel to my fire this memory makes me feel guilty'. The sub-mind noticed then that his pile of fuel was depleting rapidly of its own accord rather than by being shoveled into the engine.

The next set of memories more than made up for whatever it was that the pervious ones had lacked. The wrongful trial the youth had endured for using his magic outside of school in front of muggles in order to defend he and his cousin when they were attacked in their neighborhood by a Dementor. This though, paled in comparison to when one of his less-than-impartial judges had been made a professor at his school and physically tortured him for a year.

'Yes! We are definitely getting some heat! Give me more, damn you!', cried the sub-mind-cum-conductor before tossing his imaginary shovel and conductor's garments into his imaginary fire. Once he had done this he conjured upon himself the white lab coat and rubber gloves of an average mad scientist before running over to grasp a hold of the bars of his imaginary cage and shouting, 'GIVE MY CREATION…LIFE!'

The Dementor, oblivious to what was going on in his intended victims hindbrain continued to drag the most horrible memories from the youths mind in an attempt to gorge. Feeling it was near to breaking the youth's loose grasp on sanity it pushes forward into the even more recent past. This exposed the youths memories concerning his failure to detect a trap set for him by foe, and surprisingly, his ally in the fight against the dark wizard that killed his family. This lead to his own godfather's death (a man who had already been wrongly imprisoned by the wizarding justice system), then the endangerment and wounding of his true friends, and his near defeat at the hands of the dark wizard.

Back in the hindbrain the sub-mind had ceased to be coherent as it climbed the bars of its cage, ranting all the while.

The last set of memories to be drag to the forefront of the youths mind where the clincher, plunging the youth into the depths rage and spelling the doom of all who who doubted and opposed him…


	2. Flashback 1: Judge, Jury, and Executione...

Harry Potter rested his head against the backrest of his seat on the Hogwart Express. Surrounding him in the cabin were his friends, people that would literally march into to hell if that is where he led them.

'And I certainly led them there. And I failed them, and everyone else. All of them were wounded due to my poor leadership, and the man I went to rescue, the one who tried to rescue me from the trap set for me… he's dead. My godfather is dead! I didn't even avenge him; I even let the Dark Lord seize control of my body in order so that Dumbledore would have to kill me in order to save himself. Damn, but I wish Dumbledore had.'

Suddenly pain flared across his face as the hand of Ginny Weasley flashed past his eyes before she fled the cabin in tears.

"I guess I said that out loud", Harry said belatedly to those still in the cabin with him.

"Harry, sometimes your such a prat.", said his best friend, Ronald Weasley. His top of his head was completely swathed in bandages due to his injuries suffered at the hands (or tentacles, if you want to get precise) of a brain sucking…thingy in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries.

Harry noted that Ron had used someone else's line, somebody with bushy hair. That person spoke up saying, "I don't think it is your fault at all. Normally I'd say you bit off more than you could chew, like it seems you always do. This year, I don't think so at all. If you didn't do it, then who would? Of everyone in this school- teachers included, I'd say that only you had his head on right this year!"

Harry was stunned. Gathering himself up he asked Hermione, "But if I hadn't fallen for Voldemort's trap none of this would have happened, so how can you say that?"

Not content to let the bushy haired girl next to him be the only one to stun Harry, Ronald decided to chime in. "If the Order had done its job Harry, Voldermort and his followers would all be in Azkaban. Failing that, if Dumbledore had done his job this school year then Umbridge wouldn't have been able to run roughshod all over the school. And failing that, if Snape had been such a bloody bastard then we wouldn't have gone to the Department of Mysteries and your godfather would still be alive! The blame for all the death falls on Voldemort and his Deatheaters, while the Ministry's leaders engage in treason, but the Order is guilty of incompetence, poor communication, and lack of leadership. It's simple cause and effect, and if others can't see it and blame you for their failings when it was you having to do their damn jobs then the hell with them. What is important is that you know that you did the right thing, and anyone that gainsays that isn't worth your bother anyway."

The occupants of the car sat in contemplative silence, while Hermione sat in disbelief of the intelligence that Ron had suddenly shown. It even made her smile for about a minute, which was how long it took her to realize something about his statement.

"Language, Ronald Weasley! Five points from Gryffindor!", Hermione shouted.

Turning in his seat to face her, Ron reached up, and cupping her face with both hands said, "Frankly, Hermione, I don't give a damn!" He then proceeded to kiss her senseless.

The eyes of the three other occupants of the car got rather big. On Luna Lovegood, the absent-minded, dreamy-eyed Ravenclaw sitting to the left of Harry between him and young Neville Longbottom, this looked rather frightening. More frightening yet though, was when she then grabbed the front of Neville's shirt and saying, "I've always wanted to do this", proceeded to play tonsil hockey with him.

While Neville quickly warmed to this surprising turn of events, Harry began to feel like a fifth wheel.

"I'll go look for Ginny", Harry told anyone that was listening in the car. As he went closed the sliding door he heard Ron say something about making sure that Ginny wasn't snogging with their classmate Dean before he was silenced by some part of Hermione's anatomy.

Glad that some of his friends seemed to be lucky in love even if he wasn't and seemed doomed to never be, Harry continued along the gently swaying corridor. He moved from car to car and check each cabin for Ginny but could not find her. Instead, any cars that had students from fourth year on up seemed to be filled with happily snogging teenagers.

When Harry reached the last car on the train he definitely started to worry for Ginny. Not only had he checked every compartment except the Prefect's Car, but he was also starting to have a hard time walking or thinking strait.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' he asked himself before opening the door to the Prefect's Car. At first he thought that the car was empty but for him until a high-pitched scream that was quickly muffled. Harry then noticed three bodies on the floor behind a table in the back of the car, two of which where crouching over one of which had long, red hair. A form, which was Harry could see was now half undressed.

"I'll hold her hands and give her 'something' to keep her quite," said a voice while another grunted in assent, continuing to strip Ginny.

Harry needed no more inducement to charge to Ginny's rescue and proceeded to do just that. Before he could get a wand on her two would be rapists one of them spotted him and proceeded to grapple with him. Harry had just a moment to notice that his opponent was a Slytherin by the name of Crabby before being kneed in the groin, elbowed in the lower back, spun over his opponents head, and thrown back through the door he had entered through.

Momentarily stunned, Potter was slow to get up. Deciding he stood a better fighting Crabby and his accomplice (who was undoubtedly Goyle) at long range Potter reach for his wand only to see that he held only a broken nub of it.

There was hope, however. In the hallway connecting the two train cars sat a red toolbox, which Harry frantically searched for something he could use as a weapon. In it he found his prize- a big, heavy, red pipe wrench.

With slow, limping steps Harry made his way back to the two young criminals and their victim. Harry could see that they were now finishing that which they had started, and rage began to consume him. In this rage he found what he needed to push away his pain, and proceeded to gently attract the two brutes attention.

"I thought I told-", was all Crabby got out of his mouth before Harry used a golf swing with his pipe wrench to Crabby's head to shut him up. This also had the effect of breaking his jaw and removing him from Ginny.

At the sight of his friend's skull being half crushed Goyle removed himself from Ginny's head and launched himself towards Harry's throat. He caught Harry in mid swing, causing him to fall on his back with Goyle on top of him.

'Okay, Goyle has me pinned and is strangling me, but at least he is no longer doing that to Ginny' Harry noted as he heard her start to cough and retch. As Harry and Goyle grappled on the floor Ginny finally managed to get her legs under her and started to run from the car.

As she ran passed Goyle he jumped off Harry, and even with his pants down around his ankles was able to grab her hair. With a swift yank she fell on her back and bashing her head on the floor passed out.

Letting go of Harry in order to chase his pretty and naked prey was the wrong idea as Harry proceeded to use that opportunity to teach Goyle the error of his ways. From behind him Harry was able to kick him in the groin, before elbowing him in his lower back and in his rage managed grab hold of Goyle's left arm and used that to through him over his shoulder with Goyle landing on his back. Harry then dislocated Goyle's arm by twisting and pulling it up while stepping with all his weight in Goyle's armpit before proceeding to return the favor by grasping Goyle's neck with both hands in a vice-like chokehold.

Realizing he was in deep shit and unable to reach his opponents face he reach down into his shoe. Not realizing what his opponent was doing the next thing Harry knew a sharp pain centered in his side just below his armpit made his breath catch.

But Harry refused to yield. Holding on to his opponent's throat he propelled himself by his legs and then tuck his knees under him so that when he landed he forced all the air from Goyle's lungs and was able to pin Goyle's arms with his knees.

Then as he lay there gasping, Harry spoke to Goyle.

"You thought you could get away with this. That your Daddy and Draco's daddy and your Dark Lord were going to get you out of trouble with the Ministry for raping the little muggle lover's daughter? Well, you might have been right. That is why I'm here. I'm tired of everyone letting little shits like you get away with murder."

Goyle started gasping as he fell deeper into oxygen deficit. Seeing this, Harry continued his conversation with Goyle.

"What is it, Goyle? What are you trying to say? I can't hear you! You thought my sense of humanity; my sense of fair play would let you and your friend get away with this? That I would laugh and say, 'Yeah, I beat you again this time, now lets go home and I'll let you do so much before I beat you again next summer'? Well guess what, today I am your judge, jury, and executioner, and there will be no next year or tomorrow for you!"

At this, Goyle's struggles began to weaken. It took him a long time to die, however.

Realizing his enemy was dead and he could stop trying to crush the life out of him, Harry turned to the matter at hand. This mainly consisted of figuring out what the hell Goyle had stabbed him with. Reach over with his left hand Harry felt the handle of a knife protruding from just below and in front of his armpit. Realizing that even though it had failed to pierce his ribcage (and therefore had missed his vital organs), pulling the knife out was still going to hurt. Gritting his teeth and sucking in a quick breath Harry yanked hard on the knife's handle.

Waking up a while later face down on the floor, Harry was happy to realize that he was not dead. He was in a lot of pain, however, and lifting himself to his knees he took a good look at the blade he now held in his hand. The serpentine look of the cod steel knife made him shiver with its straight, wavy kris-style blade and silver fanged cross-guard. The hilt was a darker shade of beaten metal which looked a lot like a snake scales, and the silver pommel was of a king cobra with garnet eyes.

The style of the blade and the person who had wielded it made Harry think it might be poisoned, but seeing as his enemy was dead and he didn't have any Phoenix Tears handy there wasn't a whole lot he could do about this, and so decided to stop worrying about it.

Standing up to survey the room, Harry noticed that Ginny didn't seem to be getting up. Giving Goyle's corpse a good swift kick in the ribs and hoping the bastard could still feel that wherever in Hell he'd gone to, he then rushed over to her. He saw that she was still breathing, and so wrapped her in his bloody school robes before he picked her up and cradling her in his arms left the car in search of a teacher.

Five minutes later Harry was once again on his way to becoming enraged. Nobody was in the hallways, and there wasn't a prefect or teacher in sight. Each cabin door he dared to open revealed a scene out of a Playwizard Monthly, with the participants too engrossed in what they were doing to notice some blood-oozing guy carrying around a naked young witch. Not wanting to scare the younger students, however, Harry avoided those cabins he knew they were in.

His arm now throbbing Harry was relieved that he didn't have to fight the swaying of the train, as it looked like they had stopped moving. Upon seeing the discarded snack cart normally under the control of a friendly, female, and adult witch seemed to indicate to Harry why they weren't moving.

Giving up on his search he decided to take Ginny back to the car they had started their trip in. Opening the cabin door Harry was relieved to see that his friends still had enough clothes on to be considered decent. Harry still had to slap the back of Ron's head to get his attention, but one look at Ginny sharply focused his mind.

"I'll kill the bastard!", Ron cried.

"I already did. Both of them.", was Harry's reply.

Relaying what happened to Ginny and himself while placing Ginny on Ron and Hermione's vacated bench Harry began to rapidly descend from his adrenaline high. Noting his wound and with some skill as a healer Neville offered to heal Harry's wounds.

"Tend to Ginny", was Harry's reply.

"But…but-"

"But what!", Harry demanded, loosing patience with his friend.

Looking between Harry and Ron, Neville tried to choose his words carefully. "Uh, if I treat her I might taint the evidence. I don't know how the ministry deals with evidence sampling in these cases and if I touch her…"

"You might destroy the evidence that will be used in my defense for having killed Crabby and Goyle", Harry finished for him.

Ron began to curse fluently and with feeling. For once Hermione didn't seem to act as though Ron's ranting was uncalled for. Ron's ranting changed pitch, however, when their car was rocked so hard by something smashing into it that they were all thrown to the floor. A second hit dented the outer car wall on their side and sent a shower of broken glass across the teens.

Crawling across the floor Ron and Harry peaked their heads of the window sill, while the ladies tried to brush the glass from themselves and Ginny.

"Ron, Harry, do you see what hit us?" Hermione hissed from her crouching position over Ginny.

Harry and Ron crept back over to the girls before simultaneously hissing, "Deatheaters. Lots of Deatheaters."


End file.
